


i'm not the girl you once put your faith in (just someone who looks like me)

by serenitysea



Series: she's so fierce and full of that fire || the lara au [8]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Love, Prequel, pregnancy fic, these feels are nothing we were ever trained for, trigger happy assassin duo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-03-31 03:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13966494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/pseuds/serenitysea
Summary: come get your front row seats and watch our girl meltdown in the most epic of fashions... until she rises up to be the kickass mama we know now.akawhat happened when skye walked away from the man she loved more than life itself for the sake of their unborn child.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE LAST PART OF THE LARA AU PLEASE GO DO SO NOW!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> if you have... welcome to the mad house.

_say you were split, you were split in fragments_

_and none of of the pieces would talk to you_

_wouldn’t you want to be be who you had been_

_well baby, i want that too.  
_

*

*

*

*

It takes work to disappear. 

It takes time and effort and the kind of sleight of hand that should be supported by a team of specialists and analysts combined -- not just one woman who is scared but determined. 

They say maternal instinct is one of the most powerful forces on Earth. 

They have _no idea_.

*

At night, she dreams. 

She dreams in vivid color. 

* 

_Ward has his back to her, as he’s in the middle of cooking. This isn’t entirely unusual; he likes to take an equal share in the more domestic part of their relationship and she’s always grateful to have a night off.  
_

_(She doesn’t know if it’s breakfast or dinner. She doesn’t know what time it is. Those details don’t seem to matter here.)_

_“Have you decided where you’re going to go?” His tone is mild but there’s some kind of reprimand that throws her back to chilly mornings and cargo holds and less even playing fields.  
_

_(And something isn’t right. Shouldn’t he be mad at her?)_

_“I figured I’d get back to the East Coast. Hole up somewhere and --”  
_

_“You really think they won’t be looking for there?”  
_

_She **hates** when he does this. He asks a question (that isn’t even _ really _a question) they both know he’s got a specific answer for that he knows is best.  
_

_“Unless you’d prefer I take the long way back. That’ll probably leave me stranded somewhere in the freaking tundra through Russia.”  
_

_Ward remains obstinately silent.  
_

_He dishes out the food onto plates and slides one in front of her, choosing to keep his close as he reclines against the counter to give her his full attention.  
_

_She refuses to give him the satisfaction of looking down at whatever he’s prepared, keeping her eyes locked on him. “You’d really have me go west to east.”  
_

__His gaze sharpens with gleam of admiration as he gestures for her to dig in._ “Only if you want to minimise the possibility of being found. If not, by all means. Go right ahead.” _Get yourself captured _, is what he silently mocks her with.  
_

_He’s_ **such** _a smug bastard.  
_

_Even as she’s itching to throw the food in his face, she knows he’s right. He’s right and it_ kills _her to have to admit in.  
_

_Skye huffs in resentment and finally looks down to see a map instead of food.  
_

_“Thought you might want some help,” his voice is close and there are warm lips at her temple comfortingly and --_

*

She wakes up.

She wakes up, utterly disoriented and achingly bereft of his touch. 

She misses him. Of _course_ she misses him, she _lov_ \--

A gasp comes keening from her lips even as she brings a hand to her mouth to keep it trapped inside.

There is no time for that now. 

She breathes deeply, once. Twice. Then again, until the room levels out and things aren’t shaking ominously in the corners.

Skye takes all those sharp edged emotions -- those both small, jaggedly raw and the ones large enough to swallow her into a dark hole -- and firmly boxes them up into a place in the back of her mind. 

There is no time for that. 

She gets up.

And she starts to move.

*

_They’re in the living room.  
_

_If she looks to the left, she will surely see the hook where Ward draped his tac gear every time he came back from a mission. A glance in the other direction will lead to the kitchen, where it smells like something sweet is baking.  
_

_He’s got his arms wrapped around her just tightly enough that she can’t let go but she doesn’t really feel the weight of him holding her steady -- which is equal parts disconcerting and heartbreaking.  
_

_If she’s **here** , she wants to be **here** , with him.  
_

_This isn’t working like it should.  
_

_He idly brushes though the tangles in her hair and hums softly, pulling her along with him and the thought occurs to her --  
_

_They’re **dancing**.  
_

_They are actually swaying around, just taking a moment for themselves before someone calls a mission down on their head and if she concentrates_ just _hard enough, she can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat under her cheek.  
_

_The repetitive low thump is so reassuring and comforting that it makes her drowsy within seconds.  
_

_She thinks she hears him chuckle before fading back into the black._

*

Fighting back to being awake this time is not easy.

She’s groggily batting away the sensations vying for attention when she becomes aware of a low rapidfire beat drumming in her ears. Mornings haven’t been easy since she started sleeping alone, but she doesn’t usually have a problem with her hearing. 

Skye opens her eyes and inspects the room to see what could be responsible for disturbing her precious sleep time. Nothing of particular importance stands out. She stretches out her senses _just_ barely, reaching a little further to see if anything comes up and --

_Oh.  
_

_OH.  
_

Within something like awe, she peers down at her flat stomach. 

“It’s you.” 

She flattens her hand over where the hummingbird beat pulses the loudest and laughs through the tears coming down her face. 

“Hey there, little one."

Now that she knows what’s going on, she should really be trying to go back to sleep. She has precious few hours left before needing to depart at breakneck speed in the cover of night. 

But she doesn’t sleep. 

She just frames her stomach with her hands and stares at the ceiling in wonder. 

(It’s the first night of many that she’ll talk to the baby until her voice gives out.)

*

In LA, where the days are hot and the nights are cool -- Skye has her first bout with morning sickness. 

It’s... not pretty. 

When she’s clutching her stomach with fingers that tremble from the strain of having lost what precious little was previously in there to begin with, she attempts her first round of negotiations. 

(This will later become a trend.)

“If you let me have at least _three_ hours of _not puking my guts up_ , I _swear_ I will feed you all the french fries and milkshakes you want.” Skye leans shakily against the brick wall at her back and allows her eyes to flutter closed in relief. The restless churning in her stomach slowly abates. 

“Thank you,” she flattens her palm, mentally sending waves of gratitude and love. “I owe you one.” 

She gets another twenty feet before her stomach rebels again and she’s forced to her knees. 

“We are going to have a _long talk_ about this,” she swears, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Like a _long_ \--” 

Her words are cut off as she vomits again.

*

_“You know there are backchannels and hidden contacts you can use throughout Asia.” Ward’s voice is calm as ever, jarring her into awareness.  
_

_She opens her eyes to discover they’re in bed.  
_

_Skye presses her hand to her stomach, willing it to settle down for different reasons. Ward’s eyes follow speculatively and his gaze is rather piercing when he meets hers again.  
_

_“Like you aren’t keeping an iron clad watch on all of our old connections_ ,” _She scoffs, desperate to throw him off track.  
_

_If she can’t bait him any longer, she’s truly lost her way._

_(In more than just this.)  
_

_(...there’s a metaphor there, probably.)_

_“Skye,” he lifts a hand to brush the hair out of her face as he turns off the light, “What makes you think I’ll even have_ time _to right now?”  
_

_In the dark, his body only inches from hers, she takes a minute to sift through his words.  
_

_Oh_ **god** _.  
_

_She’d been so busy laying tracks and false counterpaths that she hadn’t even thought about what Hydra would have put him through in her absence.  
_

_They’re probably torturing the_ life _out of him.  
_

_All her plans change in that instant.  
_

_She needs to go_ back _.  
_

_She needs to find a way to make it work somehow with the two of them together.  
_

_Skye reaches out, determined to thread their fingers together to swear she’s coming for him and --_

*

She wakes up panting, her fingers clawing desperately through thin air. 

There is no one in bed beside her. The sheets of the dirty hostel she’d check in at are stained with god only knows what and she’s only been asleep for a few hours. 

Her head throbs angrily until she locates the water bottle on the floor and guzzles it quickly.

Skye props herself against the rickety bed frame with arms that protest the entire time and heaves a hopeless sigh.

She can’t go back. 

She can’t undo all the progress she’s made putting physical distance between herself and Ward because she doesn’t trust him to survive whatever Hydra is throwing at him. 

He’s a _survivor_. They both are. 

She has to believe he’s alive. She refuses to accept any other outcome. It is simply not possible to think otherwise. 

Skye puts her head in her hands and systematically shoves back all the anxious thoughts vying for space in the front of her mind until there’s nothing but blessed white calm. 

It takes precious few minutes to gather her things and slip from the room. 

Time to move on. 

*

There’s a fight.

There’s a fight -- because of course there is -- and while Skye has been determined to keep from using her abilities for fear that Hydra and SHIELD (and god knows who else) is tracking her energy signature, she’s gotten backed into an alley with no way out. 

Three men to her right and another on the left, all with various weapons and vicious intent in their eyes. It would be easy to reach out with thin tendrils of force and simply stop their hearts beating where they stand -- she could try to dampen the effort to shrink the energy waves into precious centimeters and is about to do just that when a sudden wave of nausea rolls deep in her stomach. 

Skye lurches alarmingly as the world goes fuzzy around the edges. 

There should be a second set of eyes guarding her; another gun to scare off any who dare to get too close, a knife thrown with frightening accuracy while she gathers her wits about her.  She’s not used to not having someone at her back; watching her six; picking off the stragglers from on high.

It’s like a phantom limb injury, except -- if she keeps this up, she’ll be more than injured and she doesn’t want to dwell upon the phantom in question. 

Skye fights to keep consciousness when something lights up fire white around her and men are screaming in agony. 

_That wasn’t me_ , she thinks. 

Then she passes out. 

* 

_“Letting someone get the drop on you, Skye?” Ward is plainly disappointed. “I trained you better than that.”  
_

_It’s on the tip of her tongue to rail at him that it’s at_ least _fifty percent his fault that her situational awareness and judgment is compromised right now but she bites the words back down until they burn embers at the back of her throat.  
_

_“Guess I’m a little rusty.” She grudgingly admits, refusing to meet his eyes.  
_

_Ward doesn’t like being ignored.  
_

_He’s certainly never liked being lied to (which is why they didn’t have any real secrets --_ before _) and so she’s hardly shocked when he grips her chin with steel fingers, forcing her to look him in the eyes.  
_

_“Be the woman who fought at my side and **figure this** **out** ,” He demands, temper warring dangerously in his voice. _

“ _I am trying,” She grits out, bringing her hands up to break his hold and shove him away. Somehow this time, her hands connect and land firmly on his wrists and she_ shoves _him back with no small amount of force.  
_

_Skye staggers to her feet, watching him watch her with glittering eyes openly pleased by her temper, and wants to scream.  
_

_This isn’t helping.  
_

_She can’t keep doing this.  
_

_“You need to_ go _,” She finally decides, the anger in her voice at direct odds with the piercing ache in her heart as she lays down the edict.  
_

_He doesn’t even have the decency to look surprised.  
_

_(Which means he probably knew this was coming, dammit.)  
_

_(Will she_ ever _outsmart him?)_

 _“You only ever had to ask,” Ward taunts, sketching a mocking bow in her direction. “Try not to miss me_ too _much.”  
_

*

This time when she wakes up, there’s wetness on her cheeks coupled with the devastating knowledge that she isn’t that girl anymore, and furthermore -- that she never will be again.

She opens her eyes to find Lincoln Campbell watching her intently. 

Skye freezes, immediately taking note of the IV in her arm and the quiet _beep beep_ of the heart monitor next to her. 

_Damn situational awareness shot to hell and back_. 

At least she’s still in the clothes she was when she blacked out. She slowly relaxes by degrees, mentally categorising the rest of the details. 

For once, the swirling panic at the base of her neck has all but disappeared and she feels safe, grateful for at least the sensation of safety.

“We’ve really got to stop meeting like this,” She croaks out, using her free arm to push the hair away from her face so she can take him in properly. “At least you didn’t strip me naked this time.” 

A throat clears pointedly and Skye follows the sound to discover a stunning  blonde is watching them both with mirth in her eyes. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.” 

She quietly exits the room and Skye casts a speculative glance at Lincoln. “Friend of yours?”

He’s red around the ears and cheeks, clearly embarrassed by her earlier comments. “ _Girl_ friend,” he clarifies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “She was the one who, ah,” he gestures to the bed where she’s currently resting. “Took care of you.” 

“Ah,” Skye notes prosaically. “Remind me to send her a fruit basket or something.” She gingerly swings her legs over the side of the bed, extending her arm with a pointed look in his direction. 

Sighing, Lincoln rolls his eyes and removes the IV with clinical ease, swabbing her arm with a quick cotton pad. When he goes for the bandaid, Skye hisses  and he backs off, hands up. “Okay, okay. Sorry, I forgot you’re not a fan of these.” 

Skye slips from the bed gingerly, waiting for the accompanying nausea to rear its head and extremely gratified when it doesn’t. Her hand automatically lands on her stomach in silent thanks while she hunts for her boots. 

She’s got one boot on when Lincoln casually remarks, “We gave you something for the morning sickness.” 

Skye nearly topples over in shock. She’s not showing yet. He shouldn’t know that she’s --

Her eyes narrow as she reaches out with to sense how many people stand in the way of her leaving. There are only three heartbeats; hers, the little hummingbird fluttering low inside, and Lincoln’s beating steady and true. 

She can’t feel anything else outside of the room. 

It’s a giant void. 

Skye gaze swings back to Lincoln. “Where are we?” The instrument tray to their left rattles loudly as her discomfort reaches visible levels.

Arms still raised in the defensive, Lincoln pitches his voice low. “I didn’t have any other choice. You were passed out and those guys were going to do god only knows what.” 

“ _Lincoln_.” 

“I had to bring you back, Skye, I didn’t know where else was safe --” 

Fear is coiling low in her belly as she adds up the facts, praying that she’s _anywhere_ but where she thinks they are. “ _WHERE_.” 

“Skye,” he sighs heavily, as if he is loathe to confirm her worst fears. “We’re at Afterlife.” 


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID YOU REALLY ALL THINK I WOULD LEAVE YOU HANGING THERE???????????

It takes everything she has to remain calm.

Despite the outrage and fury swirling through her right now, one thought in particular stands out. “ _How_?”

Lincoln swallows, clearly relieved that she isn’t about to try and rip him apart -- however momentarily. “Turns out when Gordon died, there was a bit of an opportunity available, and --” He disappears from sight, instantly causing the hair on the back of her neck to prickle with alarm.

“-- I got the job.” Lincoln finishes, reappearing approximately fifteen feet away from his previous location.

There is none of the dramatic fanfare heralding Gordon’s unique arrival/departure. Fitzsimmons probably wouldn’t even need to run a test before coming up with some hypothesis about the electro _blah blah blah_ that makes the whole thing possible. Right now, Skye does her best to shove that bittersweet thought aside to focus on the present.

Skye rubs a hand down her face wearily. If Afterlife is back up and running after the epic devastation that ripped through it two years ago thanks to SHIELD and her mother’s combined efforts, she can only shudder to imagine what they’re up to now. 

She inhales deeply, willing calm to bleed into her voice. “I want to get out of here.”

Lincoln winces. “ _About_ that.”

This time the instrument tray flips, scattering the tools to the ground to head straight for his face.

“ _Skye_!” He throws up his arms, tiny microbursts of lightning repelling the heavy tray from making impact with his face. “I'm just the messenger this time, I swear!”

The tray hovers dangerously close and is joined by the the sharpest looking medical tools in the room, each poised to strike him at any false movement. Skye’s fingers are half curled in response, and the desire to let them all fly free is markedly apparent by the dark look on her face. Scalpels never seemed so deadly.

“The Council wants to see you.”

Everything clatters loudly to the ground as confusion colors her expression. “What the hell is the Council?”

“More like _who_ ,” he mutters, stepping gingerly around the scattered tools. “And they’re the group in charge after...” He raises his eyebrows significantly. “ _After_.”

_After her mother tried to kill her and left the people of Afterlife in chaos._

“Right.” Skye pinches the bridge of her nose to stave off the migraine building behind her temples. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

*

Lincoln leads her out of the room and away without further protest. As soon as they exit, her senses come screaming back into awareness.

Skye stumbles briefly, trying to drown out the pounding in her head from the hundred or so heartbeats vying for attention all at once.

He waits patiently, daring to put a hand on her shoulder. “The room we had you in was shielded,” Lincoln quietly explains. “We thought it was best to keep you from being overwhelmed upon waking up.”

“You mean, this didn’t work out so well the last time this happened,” Skye allows the humor to creep into her voice, mentally erecting barriers to keep the sensations from continuing to overwhelm her. After a few moments, she’s able to straighten up and nods for him to continue.

The hallways are bright and well tended plant life covers the walls and various surfaces. It’s not the dark wood paneling and dim corners that she remembers from her brief stay years ago, and it eases a little of the tightness surrounding her chest. She’s happy to see they’re making progress, even if it’s just the decorating sort, after all these years of being such an isolated community. It means the morale of the people hasn’t been completely destroyed thanks to Jiaying and the choices they had all made.

They go down a flight of stairs and another long hallway until he stops before a set of imposingly large double doors. They are etched with various animals and aspects of nature and must to have taken some time to create, judging by the intricate woodwork.

Lincoln clears his throat. “This is as far as I go. They’re waiting for you inside.”

Skye rolls her eyes, hating the pomp and circumstance of it all. “Wish me luck,” she sourly retorts, yanking the door open.

*

There’s a mixed group of six men and women at an impossibly long table when she enters. She doesn’t recognise a single face, which isn’t surprising, given that she hardly met anyone who wasn’t in direct contact with either of her parents.

“The prodigal daughter returns at last,” calls the man at the head of the table.

The underlying rebuke has her ire rising, but she forces herself to remain calm. “Aw, I didn’t know you guys missed me all that much.”

“Well, we certainly haven’t missed the wreckage left trailing in your wake as you acted on behalf of our enemies,” sniffs an older woman to his right.

Any reminder of _that time_ ( _hydrastriketeamdeltaward_ ) makes her think of things that she’s locked up tight and refuses to dwell upon, so she takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders firmly. “I’m here now. What’s so important that you had to drag me in all cloak and dagger?”

One of the members indicates for her to take the lone seat at the foot of the table.

The gesture abruptly reminds Skye of being called in for discipline by the nuns at the Orphanage years ago. She hates the feeling now even more than she did then.

“You’re entitled to your say about what happens here, given whose blood runs through your veins.” 

_This is about Jiaying._

She grits her teeth in an attempt to remain calm. “Last time I was related anybody who lived here, it didn’t so end well for everyone involved. You guys seem to have done really well in my absence, so keep up the good work.” Judging the matter to have been settled, she slides back from the table and moves to get up from the table.

“ _Sit_.”

Her eyes narrow mutinously. “You have _seconds_ to reach your point before I start making things _shatter_ in unfortunate places in this room.”

“Even if you are unwilling to take up the mantle of leadership here --”

And the breath _whooshes_ out of her, because that is certainly the _last_ thing she expected anyone to bring up right now.

“-- There is another who will be called to take your place. She is one who has been Chosen.”

The moment drags out agonizingly slow until its meaning becomes clear. Up until now, she hasn’t allowed herself to think about whether the child she carries is a boy or a girl. Yet somehow it feels like the information laid at her feet is infallible.

The ground ripples beneath everyone’s feet as Skye clenches her hands in anger, shooting to her feet. “You don’t get to _touch her_ ,” She vows, hand landing protectively on her stomach.

“That is not for you to decide,” someone comments, and the certainty in her voice is enough to send chills down Skye’s spine.

“We’re finished here,” Skye vows, violence evident as though daring them to try and stop her.

“For _now_ ,” someone agrees, before the white noise in her head blocks the rest of it out.

*

Skye’s shoving out of the room in a fury, blasting the doors shut behind her without a care for the logistics of how the Council will exit after.

Lincoln straightens from where he’s slouched against the wall, noting the anger radiating from her. “So that went well, I’m guessing?”

“If by _well_ you mean I didn’t kill them all immediately, then _sure_ ,” she snarls, stalking down the hallway and feeling restlessly for whichever path heralds the least amount of life on the other end. She hasn’t been able to use her abilities in so long that it leaves her almost sick with relief to stretch out as wide as she dares right now without the fear of being tracked down by Hydra or SHIELD.

It’s another series of dizzying turns before she’s finally located the doors that get her _outside_ and she wants to weep when she sees blue sky above her and feels the warmth of the sun radiating on her face. 

She takes a few cleansing breaths before turning on him. “I would have appreciated a heads up before I walked into the lions’ den.”

He frowns by way of apology. “I’ll give you that they’re not exactly known to be the most reasonable, but they’ve done a lot for the community here and we haven’t had things run this smooth since... _before_.”

She can’t even bring herself to speak aloud the insanity that is the incredible delusion said group is currently laboring under, knowing certain things never need to be spoken of again. “I need to get out of here.”

He doesn’t seem all that surprised by the announcement, so Skye finds herself somewhat relieved that there isn’t some giant conspiracy to try and keep her here again.

 _Too much history repeating_.

“Did you have somewhere specific in mind?”

There is only one person she would trust right now to have her back and the life of her unborn ~~child~~ daughter. One person just clever and skilled enough to give her a chance to catch her breath so that she can get back on her feet again, instead of this current vicious cycle where she’s simply _reacting_.

“Yeah.” A dark smile curls on her face. “But I’m gonna need a computer first.”

Lincoln looks confused. “You know you don’t have to research plane tickets or anything like that, right?”

“This is better than plane tickets,” Skye promises under her breath, gesturing impatiently for him to lead her to the nearest piece of technology.

Time to ensure all her hacking skills haven’t _completely_ abandoned her over the past few weeks.

*

Per her request, Lincoln drops her in an abandoned office on the 58th floor in Avengers Tower.

It takes a couple seconds before the dizziness of teleporting disappears but she manages to wave him off, lest he get any ideas of trying to stick around (or worse yet, take her back to Afterlife).

If the schematics she hacked are correct, then she only needs to go a few floors up before reaching her objective. Since JARVIS is blessedly silent, she knows her temporary hack will cover her until she gets closer.

The stairwells are abandoned at this time of night and she’s careful not to make any noise as she creeps closer. In fact, the entire thing goes off so well that she’s beginning to think no one is actually home.

“Guess they could all be out on a mission,” Skye mutters, pushing free of the fire door and into the hallway. Probably should have had the sense to check the communication logs before fleeing in the middle of the night, but Afterlife tends to give her the creeps, so. She can’t say she isn’t glad to be the hell out of there.

She’s so caught up in her own internal monologue that there is an embarrassing lag time before she senses him.

Skye stills, leaving her hands loose and low by her sides. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The Winter Soldier melts from the shadows and into visibility, with a rather terrifying gun in his non-metal hand. “I’m not afraid of you, little girl.”

And the day just _kept_ on giving.

She turns around slowly to face him with a smirk cruelly twisting her lips. “You should be. I can stop your heart from beating where I stand. Did it once to the man I loved -- and buddy, no offense -- but I don’t exactly have the warm fuzzies for you right now.”

He pauses in consideration. Before he can respond, another shadow bleeds into the light, revealing Natasha Romanov --  exactly the person Skye has come to see.

“This looks like fun,” the Black Widow dryly observes.

Objective nearly completed, it takes everything Skye has not to slump to the floor due to the overwhelming relief cresting over her like a wave. “I need your help.”

Natasha comes to some kind of conclusion about her situation with an alacrity that leaves even the Winter Soldier himself stunned when she answers simply, “You’ve got it.”

Even so, Skye remains perfectly still while the other woman approaches and allows her to assess her potential threat level. Only when Nat gives her partner a nod that seems to signal, _she’s clean_ , and leaves him gaping in shock, does Skye release the death grip she’s got on her emotions. The floor rocks slightly under their feet, but neither of the assassins appear too concerned.

“Sorry,” Skye apologises, wincing slightly. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

*

And this is how it begins.

*

There is something to be said for surrendering the reins over to someone infinitely more capable of making decisions and not having to worry that they’re going to sell you out to the highest bidder -- or take your unborn child and declare them the new ruler of some crazy Inhuman community that’s off the grid.

(Not that she’s _bitter_ about that or anything.)

For the first time in since she’s left ~~_War_~~ her _old life_ behind, Skye gives herself  permission to _breathe_. There isn’t a vice clamped around her chest, squeezing uncomfortably tight as she frets over the baby’s safety every time she closes her eyes.

Natasha brings her cups of tea and bowls of soup and forces vitamins down her throat with the kind of look that brooks no argument.

For once in her life, Skye is happy to be fussed over and lets the other woman take charge without even a hint of protest.

Somewhere between her first and second week of being at the Tower under Natasha’s care, does the thought -- that she’s been trying _so hard_ to keep from breaking free -- occur to her.

It’s dark and well into the evening when she makes herself get out of bed and shuffle into the spare room.

Natasha is stretching at the barre, bending low at the waist and holding the pose until even Skye’s muscles burn in sympathy.

“Nat.” Skye calls out softly, not entirely sure that she will even hear her.

The hint of fear in her voice is what prompts the other woman to unfold gracefully and abandon her workout. “What is it?” Natasha lays a hand on her shoulder, the kindness of the gesture gently prompting the words to bubble forth.

“You can’t tell him.” There are probably tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes and she keeps telling herself it’s the stupid pregnancy hormones that have _ruined_ her self control and _not_ the feeling of her heart shattering inside her body.

“I had assumed as much.” Natasha tucks her arm around Skye, holding her close to her side. There is an undeniable strength radiating from her that Skye wants to absorb the way a plant soaks up the sun.

 _I used to be strong like that_.

“You think I don’t know what had you running here?” She asks, guiding Skye to recline on the sofa while she draws a blanket up to her shoulders. “I know what your life was like before this.”

Skye closes her eyes against the stark reminder, unwilling to venture down that path.

“I know what your partnership became.” Natasha, however, is not one to tiptoe around the subject. “I haven’t been feeding you prenatal vitamins to make your hair grow thicker.”

“I think it’s bad enough already,” Skye mutters, shoving the thick mass in question away from her face. She takes a deep breath and wills herself to meet Nat’s eyes, gripping her hand tightly. “Thank you.”

“Get some rest, Skye,” Natasha smiles gently, pressing a featherlight kiss to her forehead.

Skye soaks up the affection and falls asleep easily without further prompting. 

*

_Ward isn’t there.  
_

_She’s staring at their room the way it was the night she left him.  
_

_The sheets are hopelessly tangled; there’s clear evidence of her inability to put her clothes away neatly from the scattered boots and shoes and tops all over the dresser and floor.  
_

_He hates when she makes a mess.  
_

_A low smile comes to her lips as she recalls specific occasions when making a mess needing tidying after_ don’t _take priority for him.  
_

_She lets her hand trail on the bed longingly and closes her eyes, trying to imagine him near.  
_

_Would he stand behind her, patiently unbuttoning the fasteners and clasps that held her combat suit tight and safe? Would he stand before her, wanting to watch while she took it off without his wandering hands? Would he --_

*

Skye wakes up gasping.

She swallows _hard_ against the heavy feelings stirring through her body and leans against the pillows as hard as she dares, trying to ground herself in the moment.

Once she is certain that her control has sharpened to a careful degree, she sends a tendril of energy up to kickstart the fan into spinning lazily and breathes out in measured counts as the slight breeze cools her skin down.

_Guess I’m finally past that pesky first trimester after all._

*

As it turns out, it’s not that easy.

It should be.

On paper -- or at least, in her _head_ \-- it was that easy.

Get to Natasha, plead her case, let someone else do the thinking while she paused to _grow a human_ _during the interim._

She keeps forgetting one important fact: _She left Ward_.

She left Ward and she’s still stupidly, deeply, _irrevocably_ in love with him.

And being away from him is harder than she thought it would be. It’s like someone cut off not just her arm or other vital appendage -- but an entire half of her body completely.

She feels _destroyed_ without him near to anchor her.

It had been them so completely against the world for so long that she doesn’t know what it was like to _function_ without him.

Now, there are days when simply _breathing_ doesn’t even seem like something she can manage.

And sure, there’s the logical part of her brain that tells her to get up. Eat something. Make sure she’s sleeping enough to keep going for the next day.  Tune everything else out, especially the parts of her heart that have been pierced deep and are bleeding out, struggling to keep up with the demand of _existing_.

But you can only do that so long before you feel like a machine. You can only ignore your emotions for so long until they _burst_ behind whatever dam you’ve boarded them up against.

And Skye, well.

She doesn’t do things in half measures.

*

Natasha finds her passed out on the floor somewhere between the apartment and the balcony.

Skye comes to with a _start_ , her cheek stinging sharply and a barely-there grip on her abilities, which are chanting at her to _let go and destroy everything_ in her wake.

The older woman looks visibly pale but determined, her green eyes hard when she gets down to look her directly in the eye. “Skye. You are going to lose this baby _and yourself_ if you don’t pull it together.”

Skye automatically opens her mouth to protest only to discover that she can’t. Natasha is correct. (This isn’t a total shock, because Natasha is pretty much _always_ correct.)

“I don’t...” Her words are broken and gasped between the stabbing pain in her chest. “I _can’t_...”

“You _can_ ,” Natasha firmly commands, gripping her hands with the kind of strength that has Skye coming sharply back into awareness. “And you _will_.”

Skye is still struggling to breathe evenly and not bring the ceiling down on their heads, so it takes a second or two to recognise that Nat is still speaking.

“-- But not alone. And not just with the two of us. You need a support group, and a network of people you can trust who don’t have ties to SHIELD _or_ Hydra.”

Natasha has a terrible habit of speaking in riddles, so it takes several minutes for the unspoken information to disassemble neatly in her brain.

“What makes you think anyone from his family would even help me?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \+ ~~META WILL BE UP WITHIN THE HOUR.~~ THE [META](http://b-isforbombshell.tumblr.com/post/171870728580/skye-prequel-meta-parts-one-two) IS UP!!


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where skye meets thomas andrew ward.

There’s a highrise building where the construction has stalled in the offices between the 47th and 53rd floors.

Skye sends Bucky and Nat ahead of her to go do their thing and make sure that the location can be secured for the meet. They come back within the hour and Skye forces herself to wait patiently (only it’s like watching paint dry) until Bucky comes to her makeshift office and gives her the green light. “Make the call.”

She plants the photo in his Tinder account because -- if her research is anything to go by -- Thomas Ward is a bit of manwhore (to say the least). And Skye, well. Skye isn’t above using his weakness against him.

She get the alert that he’s opened the message and swiped on it within ten minutes and relays the address with fingers that shake and tremble worse than when she was first learning how to use her abilities in a forest somewhere.

Her stomach somersaults twice and she lays a hand on it gently. “Listen, Peanut. I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice man. Let’s not make this any more difficult than it needs to be.”

The sound of a throat clearing has her eyes darting up and she catches Bucky watching her with no small amusement.

“We should get going.” He nods to the door, patiently waiting as she gathers her wits about her.

“Shut up,” Skye tells him on her way past.

“Wasn’t gonna say anything,” he swears innocently, resting a hand on her lower back and guiding her to elevator.

“Yeah right.”

*

Despite the fact that Nat had been there earlier and made the space look slightly _less_ sterile by adding furniture and some throw carpets, Skye can’t help but shiver when she’s inside. There are tons of windows and the space itself is three levels high with a very open floor plan, but it doesn’t change the facts.

This isn’t exactly how she imagined meeting her unborn daughter’s uncle for the first time.

“I imagine you weren’t planning on meeting him at all,” Natasha quietly remarks, and Skye inwardly curses her apparently non-functional inner monologue.

She flushes under the other woman’s gaze as vivid imagery of that last time she and Ward had been together comes to mind. She clears her throat awkwardly, willing the blush to disappear. “Not... so much.”

From the other side of the room, Bucky harrumphs loudly and comes close to chuck her gently under the chin. “I’ll be upstairs the whole time. You so much as _breathe_ funny and I’ll shoot him where he stands.”

_And people said chivalry was dead._

She gives strangled laugh. “Thanks, I think.”

*

Thomas Andrew Ward, manwhore/manchild extraordinaire, comes into the room with what can only be described as a full on _swagger_.

Here is a man who is not afraid of the level of confidence he arrogantly projects and knows exactly what to do with it.

The familiar sight of the Ward charisma (arguably somewhat less restrained) is like a punch to the throat and Skye has to grit her teeth to keep standing and remain unaffected.

He’s definitely leaner than his older brother, more casually handsome and less overtly threatening to murder anyone in his path (Skye _swears_ her knees _don’t_ get weak just thinking about it), but the facial structure is similar enough and there’s a keen awareness in his eyes that cannot be attributed to any other family but the one to whom her unborn daughter owes half her DNA.

Thomas cocks his head to the side, considering her from where she stands half lit and strategically behind a high table to keep her stomach out of view. “Not bad, but you’re not the leggy brunette I swiped on.”

And Skye suddenly knows _exactly_ how to play this.

She silently comes from around the table and stands straight. She’s still lean enough that she isn’t showing anywhere else, but putting her belly front and center is unmistakable.

His eyebrows shoot up. “I swear it’s not mine.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sit down, you idiot. Of course it’s not yours.”

“If it’s not mine, then what am I –”

“– It’s your brother’s.”

Thomas gapes, sinking into the chair behind him. Comprehension dawns across his features. “You’re Skye.” He keeps staring, eyes growing wide in shock. “Grant doesn’t know.”

The sound of his name visibly rocks her, and she has to swallow twice before she can continue. “You _cannot_ tell him.”

“But I –” He begins to protest.

“Thomas _Andrew Ward_.”

“…You know my _middle_ name?”

“This is actually a matter of life and death. There are some very bad people out there looking to hurt us who would literally kill to get their hands on this baby.”

She hopes to impress upon him the severity of being discreet, of not telling Ward, of continuing to keep this secret -- but Thomas is still putting the pieces together.

“...Of _course_ you know my middle name, _you’re Skye_. You’re the hacker. The one who made everything disappear after you had my brother nearly _lose his mind_ that time you almost died and –”

Natasha emerges silently, appearing at his side. “Can you get a grip or would you like me to do it for you?”

Thomas frowns at her curiously. “Anybody ever tell you that you look a lot like the Black Widow? That Avenger chick?”

Natasha doesn’t even blink.

Thomas nods absently. “Right. So.” He looks back to Skye. “What’s your plan, exactly?”

Skye doesn’t allow herself the luxury of believing that he’s _all in_ and schools her features into soberness. “You have the next six hours to decide if you want to be a part of this baby’s life. If you can’t do it, that’s okay. We’ll deny any knowledge of this meeting and my associate here can hook you up with some really nice drugs that’ll make this whole experience seem like a weird bender you went on after you banged the chick you swiped on.”

He stiffens, and Skye can tell he resents the implication that she knows all about his lifestyle and the choices he makes on the regular. “And if I say yes?”

“We can talk about that if you come back.”

Thomas, for all his casual movement and laid back appearance, is not stupid. “You’re going to want me to lie to my brother, aren’t you?”

Skye doesn’t answer.

He runs a hand over his face. “I need a drink.”

She doesn’t flinch when he walks by her and heads for the door without so much as a backward glance. Doesn’t let her grip on the sofa lessen until she hears the _click_ of the door closing. Tells herself it’s going to be okay, even as she sinks to the ground, shaking slightly while the adrenaline floods her system.

She’s barely aware of Bucky moving her to the soft cushions and hears him mumble something to Natasha before she falls into a deep sleep, totally exhausted.

 _This **has** to work_. _She can’t explain why, but she **needs** him. She can’t do this without him.  
_

*

There’s a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a little note that says ‘ _EAT ME’_ sitting eye-level when she wakes up. She rolls her eyes, sighing as she reaches for the sandwich, refusing to admit how hungry she suddenly feels.

Movement to her left reveals Bucky watching her carefully. “Finish it. There’s a bottle of water for you to take your vitamins with afterwards.”

Part of her wants to bristle at the heavy handed orders (she’s not part of the Howling Commandos; this isn’t a war -- _isn’t it, though?_ \-- and he’s certainly not her father) but a bigger part of her is grateful that someone else is looking after the details so that she doesn’t have to.

Outside, the sky has gone dark on the horizon and she’s seized with panic. “What time --”

“-- He’s got another hour or so to turn up.”

She flinches.

_So much for her grand plan._

Another, more startling thought occurs to her.  

 _What if he goes to Ward_?

Twin feelings of hope and despair spiral through her at the thought of Thomas’s potential defection.

“Hey.” Bucky takes the seat next to her, resting gingerly on the cushions as if he fears she’s going to blast him clear across the room. “Natalia’s on him. Don’t worry about it.”

“‘Don’t _worry_ about it’?” She repeats, disbelief dripping from her tone. “It’s not that simple. Without Thomas, this whole thing falls apart and --”

Bucky puts a firm hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “No. If the playboy decides he isn’t man enough to handle this, then _we_ will. There are other options and ways to do this. You know Natalia has backup plans for her backup plans. We’ll get through it.”

Something about the firm strength he projects has Skye nearly ready to burst into tears ( _stupid pregnancy hormones_ ) and she can’t help but lean into his side. She feels him go still in shock, then rolls her eyes. “I’m not gonna get my cooties all over you, Frosty. Just grateful for the backup.”

The supersoldier lets out a heavy sigh, and moves to cautiously put his arm around her. “Bout time you let me in.”

“ _Bout time_ you stopped being so damn protective of Natasha and started treating me like a real person instead of a freaking _threat_ ,” Skye retorts, leaning further into his side.

“I deserve that,” he acknowledges, a low thread of humor in his voice.

“And _more_ ,” she pouts, closing her eyes again.

Bucky keeps so still beside her that it begins to _grate_ on her nerves. “For god’s sake,” Skye grumbles, yanking his metal hand over to her stomach. She _hears_ his heartbeat literally stop then double up in earnest as the sensors under his fingertips pick up the baby’s heartbeat and fluttering movements inside.

She doesn’t have to open her eyes to know there’s a look of stunned emotion on his face or see the way he barely dares to breathe, as if that innocent act would upset the fragile life growing within her. 

The moment stretches on comfortably and she begins to doze until the sound of scuffling can be heard outside. She has a moment to nod reassuringly at Bucky as he hauls her to her feet, then disappears from view so she can face Thomas on her own.

The door opens with a bang, stuttering back from the wall as he enters. Thomas is clearly weaving, his footsteps unsteady as he makes his way to where she stands. The closer he gets, the more apparent it becomes:

Thomas is _drunk_.

“See here’s the thing… you picked the wrong Ward sibling for this one.” He nearly goes down when he tries to put a hand on the table for balance, and Skye has to hold herself back from trying to keep him upright. “...Shoulda gone for Rosie, she’s the one studying all’a this and could probably deliver the little sprog. ‘Cept _now_ you’re stuck with _screwup Thomas_ who never does anything right.”

There’s relief burning in the back of her throat even as she sees past the drunken stupor for the self-loathing deep in his eyes, and Skye almost starts crying in gratitude.

But she knows they aren’t out of the woods yet.

Summoning her courage, and praying that she isn’t reading this wrong --  heaven help her if the ability to read the Ward men has suddenly vanished -- Skye puts her hand on his cheek, turning his face until their eyes lock. “Thomas.”

“Yeah?” There’s something soft and achingly uncertain in his voice.

Skye finally lets a smile soften her features. “Sleep it off, pal. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He closes his eyes in exhaustion and basically collapses there on the couch. She sweeps the hand still cradling his cheek upward gently before slowly removing it. Within seconds, he’s snoring away and Skye doesn’t feel at all bad about allowing the tiny laugh of disbelief to escape her. 

“Well done,” Natasha says, bringing a blanket to cover him with. “We’ll get to work on finding Rose tomorrow.”

The possibility of having someone she trusts for labor and delivery rather than drawing in another unknown hadn’t even occurred as an option and Skye can’t believe her luck.

_It **can’t** be this easy._

She glances at Natasha in comprehension. “You knew about Rose.”

“I suspected.” The other woman acknowledges, keeping her eyes on Thomas. “But she’s gone to ground and I haven’t been able to find her. If he hid her --” and there is no mistaking the _he_ in her voice, “-- it’s unlikely we’d be able to. Thomas may have an idea where she is.”

Playboy Thomas Ward, who came to this meeting under false pretenses to the _extreme_ and decided to somehow stick it out for the long haul. The man with the likely permanent _Peter Pan_ syndrome, who is currently sleeping off his hot mess express _white girl wasted_ condition on a rented couch in an abandoned office in Midtown.

The irony of the situation does not escape her.

“Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi,” Skye mumbles with smiling disbelief. “You’re my only hope.”

Bucky snorts, laying a heavy arm over her shoulder. “God help you both.” He exchanges a wordless glance with Natasha over Skye’s head and clears his throat firmly. “We need to get you and the Peanut back to the Tower. I don’t like you being exposed out here.”

“What are we gonna do about --?”

Natasha gently inserts herself between them, drawing Skye away towards the door. “James will look after him. We’ll bring him by the Tower in the morning, let you spend some time getting to know each other better.”

“Yeah,” Skye nods slowly, abruptly all too aware of how tired she is. Getting back home and taking a hot bath sounds like heaven right now. “That’s probably a good idea.” She looks back uncertainly at Bucky, letting her gaze flicker down to Thomas for a beat. “You’ll take care of him?”

“Of course,” Bucky drawls, taking a seat in the lounge chair adjacent to the sofa. “He won’t remember a thing.”

Something about that statement has alarm bells ringing distantly in the back of her mind but the day’s events are crashing down on her en masse and Skye can’t quite bring herself to care. She offers a backward wave and follows Natasha outside, trusting that this, at least, will be okay.

*

(Thomas Andrew Ward wakes up the next morning with the mother of all hangovers and the weirdest sensation of being watched. There’s a glass of water on the table next to him and two painkillers next to it -- at least he _hopes_ they’re painkillers -- and he swallows them without pausing to consider the potential ramifications of the past 24 hours beyond the niggling thought that he might have mentioned something about his little sister.

There’s a message from Skye waiting on his phone and an address, followed by firm instructions that he is to toss the phone into the Hudson before traveling to meet her.

Thomas isn’t exactly a stranger to the important people in his life being _fifty shades of paranoid_ , and he wagers Skye seemed adamant about the risks involved with her current predicament, so he does what he’s told without  hesitation.

Then he reminds himself to check in on his sister after the dust has settled and spares a moment of remorse that he’ll be keeping the mother of all secrets -- _ha freakin’ ha_ \-- from the two people he loves most in the world.

Some days, Thomas really _hates_ the way the Universe works.)

*

It’s a good thing he vaguely checked out the address before chucking the phone, because he feels disturbingly naked without it and he doesn’t have anything to do with his hands on the way.

(Anyone who knows him will tell you that an idle Thomas is a _dangerous_ Thomas, for a number of reasons.)

But when the driver lets him off outside Avengers Tower, Thomas has to keep his mouth from dropping open in shock.

“How the hell did she manage _this_?”

There are people passing him left, right and sideways, so he eventually regains his senses and moves inside. There is a visitor’s badge waiting at the bank of desks in the lobby, and it’s handed over before he can breathe a word about who he is and what he’s there for. The helpful concierge directs him to a smaller set of elevators tucked cleverly behind an impressive facade and he’s on his way without a _clue_ where he’s going.

It turns out that he needn’t have worried about that too much, because as soon as he steps into the elevator, it rockets up with no direction from him. Just when Thomas thinks he’s about to lose his lunch, the elevator stops so that a stunning and tall strawberry blonde can enter.

“He _llo_.” Thomas treats the pretty newcomer to his most charming grin.

(So what if he funnels his weird anxiety into flirting? It’s _constructive_. It’s a healthy output for all the restless energy brewing inside him because calling up his new favorite person to burn through energy right now -- legs for days, tolerating none of his bullshit, answers to the name of Kara -- isn’t exactly an option at the moment. ...And not just because he’s missing a phone.)

“I have one of you already,” She taps smartly on a StarkTablet, seemingly unconcerned that the elevator is taking off again without their input. Then she gives him such a thorough once over that Thomas actually feels a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Though you _are_ tempting.”

The elevator stops again and she puts the tablet away, lifting her chin slightly as though gearing up for battle.

Thomas clears his throat and steps respectfully aside as she moves to exit the elevator. “Ma’am.”

She winks at him on her way out, ponytail swishing in her wake.

The doors close slowly, as if teasing him with what he could never have.

Thomas clutches his heart. “I think I’m in love.” 

*

For the second time in less than 24 hours, the sound of a knock on the door has Skye’s heart jumping into her throat.

She opens the door to see Thomas peering suspiciously at the elevator over his shoulder. “Did you know that thing just brought me here without having to press any buttons?”

"Come inside before you are seen,” someone orders from well within the apartment, and the sharp tone has him doing just that. 

“I take it you didn’t have any trouble finding the place?”

“You mean, after you told me to throw my phone in the river and I had to rely on my wits to arrive in one piece?” Thomas archly replies.

Skye colors briefly. “Okay, so that might have been a little extreme, but --”

“Nah.” He shrugs. “You two are cut from the same cloth. He’s asked me to do weirder before.”

Skye rocks back on her heels, visibly thrown by the reference.

Natasha rolls her eyes and puts down the brief she’d been working on to intercept them and hand him a new phone that suspiciously looks a _lot_ like his old phone.

Skye watches as he files that information away and the recognition locks into place.

“You _ARE_ that Avenger chick!”

“I prefer Natasha,” the redhead answers smoothly, guiding both of them into the living room where she gestures for them to be seated. “I’ll make tea.”

He grimaces. “I don’t really --”

“Relax.” Skye puts a hand on his arm without even thinking about it. “It’s for me.”

“Do you drink that weird bitter stuff my brother likes?”

Skye doesn’t know if she’s reassured or pissed off that he’s not exactly steering clear of topic. Between his direct conversation and the physical resemblance he shares with Ward, the past 24 hours have been drenched in feelings and reminders that she’d rather not dwell upon.

At the lapse in conversation, Thomas widens his eyes in faux innocence. “I’m sorry, are we _not_ supposed to mention the elephant in the room, or --?”

There is the distinct click of a safety being released.

Natasha looks up from where she’s been reassembling her glock. “It gets stuck sometimes,” she shrugs guilelessly. “I have to really work at it to make sure it doesn’t go off accidentally.”

The simple statement could be taken in a number of ways -- but this is Natasha, and nothing she does at seemingly face value is ever without a secondary motive.

Skye very deliberately meets the other woman’s eyes and lifts her chin in warning.

There’s a charged beat of awareness that passes between them that has Thomas raising his eyebrows in curiosity. “Should I be taking cover or... getting popcorn right now?”

And the tension in the moment is broken.

Skye rolls her eyes, not bothering to temper her strength when she slugs him on the arm. “Idiot.”

He winces, rubbing where her fist had landed. “ _Damn_ , woman. My brother teach you how to do that?” When Skye pushes past him to attend to the shrieking teapot, he pops up to trail after her. “Because if so, I really ought to give him more credit, but if not, then -- _AUGH_!”

Skye lowers the kettle with an overly sweet smile on her face. “Sorry. Did I get you?”

Thomas glares at her and the offending kettle before tucking his reddened hand under his arm protectively. Under her watchful gaze, he wisely does _not_ comment on the fact that the water all but _leapt_ out at him from the spout and instead focuses on her stomach.

“How’s the sprog doing, anyhow?”

Skye closes her eyes and lets her head fall back in exasperation.

_How in God’s name had Ward kept from murdering his brother all these years?_

“Do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?” The question this time seems genuine and is one that Skye is all too happy to answer, if for no other reason than to keep her overprotective Russian assassins at rest.

“It’s a girl.” The more she speaks about it, the realer it becomes. She can _see_ the question on his tongue before he even says it and heads him off at the pass. “So your new phone. You know what to do with it?”

Thomas holds silent for a good couple of seconds, keeping watchful eyes on her. “Yeah,” he finally says, choosing not remark on her awkward change of subject. “Pretty sure I know what to do with one of these.”

At his dry tone, Skye relents enough to elaborate. “It’s not... exactly your old phone.”

“Unless you decided to go diving in the Hudson, I’d have to agree with you there.”

 _Why does his sarcasm have to remind her_ **so much** _of his older brother_?

“What I mean is that it’s StarkTech.” When he shrugs blankly, she clarifies, “It’s got scrambling capabilities and we were able to clone all of your prior information onto it so you won’t have to rebuild everything from scratch.”

“Heaven forbid,” Thomas murmurs, nodding for her to precede him back into the living room. “I’d certainly hate to leave everything behind and start over.”

This time when Skye stops dead in her tracks to look back at him, there is a keen look of understanding in his eyes; an olive branch of sorts, from one survivor to another. She nods ever so slowly, and relaxes until the hand he’s had hovering above the small of her back lands softly and he can steer her to safety.

Once they’re seated, Thomas lifts a hand to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “You’re gonna have to tell me if there’s anything you’d rather I _didn’t_ talk about.”

In his eyes, she can _see_ it.

If she says the word, he’ll tell her everything she’s wondered for the past couple months since she left. The proverbial floodgates will open and _nothing_ will be unknown. She can learn about the man they both love and fill in all the terrifying blanks.

_Can she do it? Can she find out what she doesn’t know and stay back, not interfere with whatever he’s been up to, no matter the cost?  
_

She knows him better than she knows herself. Better than Thomas, probably. She doesn’t need to fill in the blanks. There’s no way Ward _isn’t_ handling her disappearance badly.

“I trust you can use your judgment on that one,” Skye finally says, squeezing his hand as if pleading him to understand everything she can’t put into words.

_How does she tell him that she doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to stay away once he confirms all of her worst fears?_

“Got it,” Thomas says, his voice thick with emotion. “So what do I call you, when you get in touch with me?”

Finally, something she can answer outright.

“Joey’s Pizza,” Skye answers, her laugh a strangled stab at humor.

And because it hails back to spies and a popular television show with a beautiful badass chick who could wipe the _floor_ with him, Thomas knows exactly where the reference comes from.

“ _Okay_ , Sydney Bristow.”

Now Skye laughs long and loud; at his dubious sarcasm, at the sheer insanity of their situation, at the events that have led up to their sitting together on a sofa in the Avengers Tower with only two other people to bear witness to the fact.

 

And _this_ is how their friendship begins.

 

*

(note: this part of the prequel is _**set in the middle**_ of the [ward prequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164590). remember that the ward prequel spans several weeks, but this only covers about 24 hours of thomas’s life.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA DAAAAAAAAAH!
> 
> SHE FINALLY MET THOMAS.
> 
> \+ [meta](http://b-isforbombshell.tumblr.com/post/172530693695/skye-prequel-meta-3). (it's a good one folks, i recommend you read it.)
> 
> \+ also, i can't believe i keep forgetting to mention this but PLEASE go download _humpty dumpty_ by **aimee mann** because that is where the opening lyrics and the title both come from.


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where skye meets tony stark.

The first time Skye meets Tony Stark, she pukes on his feet.

...no, _really_.

*

It’s been an eerily quiet morning, and Skye hasn’t been able to shake the stupid nauseous feeling chasing the back of her throat for hours.

 _Whoever said morning sickness was mostly limited to the first trimester clearly **lied**_.

Natasha left early to run down a few leads, and Bucky was off doing whatever it was that Bucky normally did on an otherwise unsuspecting Thursday.

Since coming to stay at the Tower a few weeks ago, Skye has been fairly good about abiding by certain protocols:

  * don’t make any unnecessary trips out into the hallways/elevators/etc.
  * try to stay as far under the technological radar as possible (harder than one would think, given that the place is like _candyland_ to her hacker side)
  * do not engage in behavior of any kind that would cause suspicion for either Natasha or Bucky (and this is a broader scope of freedom than she initially realised)



But she had a _craving_. Like a _serious craving_.

For taco pizza with ranch dressing and _\-- yes she knows how bizarre that truly is_ _but if Natasha hadn’t directly approved the request and sent it in for fulfillment, then she wouldn’t have been waiting impatiently at the door for it_ \-- her common sense apparently took a nose dive out the window.

So when the doorbell chimes softly, Skye doesn’t think much of going to answer it because she’s got _TACO FREAKING PIZZA_ on the brain.

Which is probably why it comes as such a shock to see Tony Stark standing there on the other side, holding the pizza box in his hand expectantly. “I’ve come to find out why you retrofitted an old phone from the _last century_ with StarkTech and --”

Skye’s jaw drops open.

“Huh.” He frowns. “You’re not Natashalie.”

The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach suddenly _triples_ and before she knows it -- Skye actually pukes all over his feet.

*

Thankfully, Natasha is around the next time they interact. She’s working on cleaning her gun at the kitchen table while Bucky makes some kind of soup that smells _amazing_ \-- so Skye contents herself with the knowledge that if she really needed her, Nat would step up.

Or at least, she _tries_ to do so, while suffering under the barrage of Tony Stark’s rapidfire observations.

“So you’re the one who put the Rising Tide on the map.”

“I wouldn’t --”

“And then finagled your way into Ian Quinn’s ridiculous party with nothing more than a fabricated Evite.”

“Have you been stalking my _career_ , because --”

“Not to mention like, half a katrillion other things I’ve had JARVIS keeping an eye on to cross reference similarities for over the past few years.”

“Um.”

“I’m a huge fan. _Huge_ fan.”

( _This... is not going at all how she pictured it._ )

Skye attempts a different tactic. “Up until a few months ago, I was working for Hydra?”

Tony shrugs. “Poor choices. We all make ‘em. Glad to see you’ve turned things around.”

“I was only doing what Coulson asked me to and --”

“-- _What_.”

Skye mentally replays her last statement back and cringes. “Dammit.”

“What _WHO_ asked you to do?”

She opens her eyes to find Tony glaring at her darkly. A quick glance over her shoulder reveals Natasha and Bucky are totally unruffled. (So Natasha already knew, then. Not surprising. Natasha knows basically everything.)

“Can we just forget I mentioned it and --”

“No _we cannot_.” Tony strides further into the apartment, slamming the door with angry vigor. “Crimson Death, did you know about this?”

Natasha flicks a cool gaze up as if to say _what do you think?_

Tony curses savagely. “That jackass.”

“If it helps, I’m pretty sure Fury made the decision?” Skye offers, wanting to steer clear of Project Tahiti and all its various ugly components.

“We’ll be revisiting this later, kid.”

He storms out in huff, leaving the room somewhat lacking in oxygen.

“Drama queen,” Bucky mutters, stirring the large pot of soup. “Like it’s some _huge thing_ to find that someone isn’t dead after all. What a load of crap.”

Natasha clears her throat pointedly until he flushes.

Skye observes how he returns his attention to the soup and doesn’t say expand on the subject with no small amount of delight.

“That’s a useful trick to have,” she whispers to the other woman on her way to the bathroom.

“I _heard that_ ,” he calls after her. “I’m gonna put extra tomatoes in this soup, just for that.”

“No he’s not,” Natasha calmly replies.

“...No I’m not,” Bucky agrees, casting a forlorn look at the tomatoes.

*

Tony sends an invitation a day later, requesting her presence in his workshop.

(Skye will never admit to anyone _upon pain of death_ that she deliberated over what to wear for a solid twenty minutes until Natasha took pity on her, tossing a bundle of black athleisure leggings and a cozy dark gray cowl-necked hoodie her way.)

She’s still in such a daze about her life (and what it’s become) that when JARVIS deposits her on the correct floor without prompting, she has virtually no memory of walking to the workshop doors and gaining access.

...Because it has taken about five whole minutes for Skye to get her jaw scraped off the floor.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Tony isn’t even _trying_ to hide his satisfaction. “I knew you’d flip as soon as I got you in here, but I _didn’t_ know it would have the upside of rendering you totally speechless.”

“Shut up,” Skye finally responds, finding her voice. “But also, total sidebar? This is _incredible_.” She bats gently at a few screens, shoving the windows out of the way until she can get a clear view of Central Park and to look at the daily menu at the Palm Court Tea Room in the Plaza.

“Okay _yes_ , scones. I’m down for that,” Tony whirls around, shoving off to another desk in the workshop. “JARVIS, order us one of everything on the menu from there and extra scones.”

“ _Please_ ,” Skye hurriedly chimes in before JARVIS can confirm the order.

When Tony looks at her in exasperation, she stares at him firmly. “You should be nicer to him. He does _a lot_ for you.”

“Oh, _please_. I am plenty nice to JARVIS. Aren’t I, buddy?”

“ _Sir, I believe it is in everyone’s best interests if I do not expand upon the topic_.”

Skye starts laughing, immediately offering JARVIS two thumbs up. “Well played, J.”

“Thank you, Miss Skye.”

Tony doesn’t pay her any mind as she laughs every once in a while before coding away on a few dozen random projects he’d abandoned for one reason or another. He tells her she can make herself useful (and pull her share of the “rent”) by cleaning up his “cyber workshop” and putting any outstanding projects to bed or up for review.

“I can’t believe you even thought of half of these ideas. Like if people _really_ knew how ridiculous some of these designs truly are --”

“Listen kid, don’t get cocky. Remember where you came from.”

“I know _exactly_ where I came from and --”

Skye abruptly stops speaking as a picture of her face suddenly fills all the available screens in the workshop.

She’s younger, obviously. Wearing a badly put-together Iron Man suit, though the joy on her face is apparent.

 

( _“She might as well be one of those sweaty cosplay girls outside Stark Tower.”_ )

 

Without warning, Skye unexpectedly bursts into tears.

All the objects on the workshop surfaces begin to vibrate gently, as if humming in unison.

Tony’s eyes grow wide with alarm. “ _Thaaaaaat_... was not the reaction I had anticipated.”

When Skye can’t stop crying, Tony reaches blindly for any kind of drying agent -- a semi-clean towel, a wad of napkins, _anything_ \-- and doesn’t even try to yell at Dummy for wheeling over with a smoothie.

“JARVIS, _get Pepper_ ,” Tony whispers, no doubt trying to figure out what the hell had gone so horribly wrong. “Get Pepper _NOW.”_

It seems like hours before Pepper arrives, walking at a fast clip. “What did you _do_?” She glares, taking a moment to look at the screens and correctly deducing the scene within seconds. “Take the pictures _down_ ,” She hisses while making her way over to Skye.

“I’m fine, it’s _just_ \--” Skye can’t stop crying, but there’s also part of her that’s laughing somehow, and how does she explain this to them without sounding totally insane?

 _Hey sorry, it’s just that you reminded me of a conversation I had a long time ago when I first met the man I love and I miss him so badly sometimes it makes me want to actually rip the city apart with nothing but my bare hands and emotions_?

Somehow she doesn’t see that going across so well.

With effort, she manages to pull herself back in, distantly noting that the objects on the desks fall with a loud clatter as she lets out one last heaving sob.

“Pregnancy hormones. They’re a total bitch, am I right?” Skye offers a weak smile.

“More like Tony’s a _total idiot_ ,” Pepper mutters darkly, wrapping a blanket around her and guiding her to the stairs. “As if you needed to see a picture like that, I don’t know what he was thinking --”

Her voice trails off as the elevator doors close behind them.

Tony puts his head down on the nearest surface. “I am going to be a terrible father.”

*

Pepper turns out to be the perfect balm to Skye’s raw emotions after dealing with the upheaval that Tony unwittingly caused.

She orders a spa day for both of them -- even has the spa experience brought to them, mindful as ever, of Skye’s growing need for privacy -- and refuses to allow any subjects discussed other than relaxation and whatever they plan on eating next.

Skye floats out of there like she’s on Cloud Nine, not even protesting when Bucky eases her back to the apartment with visible humor.

 

(”Bout time you slowed down and did some pampering.”

“You offering?”

“Natalia says I give a _mean_ foot rub.”

“...Gross,” Skye says, but her voice is fond.)

 

She sends Pepper a handwritten thank you note the next day and JARVIS couriers back the CEO’s response within seconds.

 _I’m beyond delighted to have found someone who can keep up with Tony, and a requisite spa buddy to slow down my days as well. Please stay forever. We_ need _you! -P._

Skye doesn’t even bother wiping away the tears that drip slowly down her face.

She’d kind of forgotten what it was like to have a family behind her.

It’s amazing.

The baby kicks _hard_ in agreement under her skin and she puts her palm flat, willing her come back. “I know, Peanut. I love it here too.”

*

It’s late at night when Skye finds herself roaming the Penthouse restlessly.

Tony hasn’t emerged from his workshop in hours (maybe even _days_ , it’s getting harder for her to keep track of time now with all the weird discomfort she has and the constant needing to pee and eat and sleep) and she’s feeling a little guilty about it, especially since he’s refused to let her back in the workshop after the Picturegate Crisis. (...His words, _obviously_.)

“Hey, kid.”

Skye whirls around to see the man himself standing by quietly, with an amber glass of liquid in one hand (it’s scotch, which totally _doesn’t remind her of Ward, no siree_ ) and another with a mug that he holds out to her. “Thought you might want one of your famous almond milk lattes.”

_How did he know exactly what she needed?_

“Thanks.” She accepts the mug gratefully, sinking onto the couch and staring out at the city lights.

“I, uh...” Tony clears his throat awkwardly, “Wanted to ask you something.”

With effort, Skye pulls her thousand and five random thoughts into line and gives him her full attention. “Shoot.”

“You can totally tell me to go to Hell after this, by the way.”

Amusement brightens up her face. “Stop stalling, Tony.”

“Okay, but. Sorry in advance, and all.” She gestures impatiently for him to spit it out. He swirls the liquid in his glass and knocks back a healthy swallow before blurting out, “What was it like, you know, working with _Agent_?”

At first, the question doesn’t quite land.

 _Agent who_? she wants to ask.

But that’s not right. Tony wouldn’t be squeamish about asking after anyone -- he’s _Tony Stark_ , after all -- except for maybe one person in particular. The one  he’s not supposed to know is alive.

“Coulson.” Just saying the name is a little difficult for her at the moment.

She has such mixed emotions about the man right now, and none of the pregnancy hormones flooding her body are helping to clarify the matter. But Tony rarely asks for anything and he’s been, in his own way, really amazing about all of this, so if she can give him something in return -- even if it’s _this_ \-- she’ll gladly do it.

“He’s... fine. It was okay.”

Tony snorts. “That was convincing.”

Skye lets her head fall back on the couch and rubs her stomach absently. Thinks about trying to pretty up the details of her last meeting with Coulson and decides it’s just not worth the effort. “Honestly?”

“I didn’t think we were in the business of telling each other anything but the painful truth, here.”

“Things were _strained_ by the last time we spoke.”

His face becomes unreadable. “How so.”

She sighs, thinking back to the last meeting in Coulson’s office. “He was giving me instructions for a mission. That wasn’t unusual, because our team at the base was pretty small and I was cleared for most all aspects of fieldwork. But it had been... a really bad couple of weeks for me.”

“Like, _flew a nuke into **space**_ bad, or...?”

“Maybe not that bad.” Skye laughs, but it’s a strangled thing. “My, um. My mom had just died. My dad was the one who, y’know. Killed her. I... _couldn’t_.”

Tony reaches out blindly to put his hand on hers, squeezing tightly. “So let’s forget I asked. In fact, delete this entire conversation from your brain.”

“ _No_!” Skye bites out, startling even herself with the sharpness of her response. “I want to talk about this.”

“Okay,” he puts his hands up non-threateningly, “Jarvis, let the record state that I tried to stop this conversation.”

“ _As you wish, sir._ ”

JARVIS never fails to bring a quick smile to her face, and Skye draws strength from it before she goes on. “So it had been... a rough time for me. And Coulson was asking me to go on a deep cover mission and infiltrate Hydra.” She took a deep breath before barreling on firmly, “To find Ward and bring him in.”

Tony is gaping at her in stunned disbelief.

“Obviously that didn’t go _quite_ as planned,” Skye rubs a firm hand over her belly, smiling fondly when she feels the baby kick out in response. “In fact, I guess you could say it backfired pretty spectacularly.”

“Let me get this straight.” Tony sits up, watching her with the kind of focus that would have worried her had it been anyone else. “Agent asks you to go on a mission and _hunt down the man you love_ after your mom was pretty much murdered right in front of you, by your dad?”

Skye is silent for a long time while she tries to come up with a fairly diplomatic response to _that_ little bomb of info. “Being Director of SHIELD changes you, I guess.” She shrugs, finishing her non-caffeinated ‘latte.’ “Also, I wasn’t in love with Ward at the time.”

When Tony remains pointedly silent, she glares at him. “ _At the time_ , I wasn’t.”

(It seems somehow important that she stresses this detail to him.)

“Kid, don’t even try to lie to me about this stuff.”

Skye folds her arms, preferring to glare out the window instead of having to look at his all-too-knowing face. “I _wasn’t_ ,” she stubbornly insists.

“Don’t listen to her, Peanut,” Tony cooes, directing his attention to her belly. “Mommy and Daddy love each other very much, and have for like, a stupidly long period of time.”

The conversation is officially over.

“...I hate you.” Skye closes her eyes, finally ready to sleep. She doesn’t even flinch when the feeling of a soft blanket is draped over her.

And neither she nor Tony comment on the fact that she didn’t correct his statement -- or the very real present tense he had used in the moment.

*

She’s joining Pepper for breakfast that weekend and wondering if it would be out of line to ask what Tony has been up to for the past two weeks like a madman when said madman comes barrelling into the room.

“I’ve _done it_!”

“That’s wonderful,” Pepper says calmly, favoring him with a quick smile. “Would you like to have breakfast with us before you collapse dead on your feet?”

“I will _not_ collapse dead on my feet, Pep,” Tony protests, swiping her coffee for a quick sip and nearly spitting it back out. “Blech. I forgot you switched to almond milk too.”

Skye and Pepper trade looks that Tony intercepts, “I can _see_ that, you know! Two important women in my life _ganging up on me_ , this is a mutiny in the process, JARVIS, take note!”

“ _So noted, sir.”_

Pepper raises an eyebrow until Tony finally takes a seat at the middle of the table, drumming his fingers restlessly. Skye ducks her head to keep the smile from breaking out widely on her face at his comments as the engineer tries to keep his excitement contained. (And fails miserably.)

“Okay!” He stands up again, clapping his hands together smartly. “Since you aren’t going to ask, _I’ll just tell you_.”

“Please do,” Pepper reaches for her coffee to keep it out of range from his wandering hands, her mild tone at odds with the swiftness of her actions.

“I created the ultimate ghost program.”

Pepper frowns, visibly uncertain this merits celebration.

Skye’s jaw drops open. “You...”

Clearly thrilled that at least _one_ person is on his wavelength, Tony spreads his arms wide and preens. “That’s right. I’ve finally done it.”

There are several incredibly high priority emails on Pepper’s tablet that she is carefully reading through while still giving him more than half of her complete attention. “What exactly _is_ this program, and will I be needing to share it with  SHIELD or any other government agencies?”

“No you _will not_ ,” he joyfully exclaims. “It’s only for one person.”

When he aims his bleary-eyed gaze directly at Skye, she bursts into tears.

Pepper immediately abandons the email and throws her arms around the younger woman, shooting him a dirty look.

Tony is floored. “Are you _kidding me_? This is a _good_ thing!” When the dark look from her doesn’t go away, he tries pleading with a near hysterical Skye. “Will you please tell her!”

Natasha and Bucky stroll into the room mere seconds later, aiming looks of promised destruction in his direction.

“For once, I swear this is _not_ the reaction I was aiming for!”

Skye takes in the commotion and notes the newcomers’ arrivals, seeming to draw strength from Nat’s unflinching stare. “He’s right,” she manages, patting Pepper’s arm until it falls away from her and she can stand unassisted.

She’s still a little wobbly on her feet as she makes her way to where Tony stands, utterly bewildered.

“Would anyone care to explain?” Bucky asks, looking entirely too trigger happy.

One last step has Skye staggering into Tony’s personal space, where she abruptly throws her arms around him.

Tony’s hands fly up in protest and he immediately blurts out, “I don’t like being handed things!!”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, not even caring that she’s crying again. 

Tony looks supremely uncomfortable and unsure of what to do until he catches sight of Natasha shooting him a venomous glare, gesturing that he embrace the younger woman in return. He gingerly places his arms around her, patting awkwardly. Skye sobs harder. He turns panicked eyes back to Pepper, who is standing with her arms folded, an extreme look of irritation on her face.

After another agonising few moments of this, Skye finally draws back and wipes the tears at her face, shoving back the hair that’s collected in front of her eyes. “Don’t kill him,” she eventually tells Bucky, Natasha and Pepper.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” Bucky demands, not looking at all mollified by her sudden composure.

“The program,” Skye sighs, stepping back from Tony and allowing him to retreat safely behind Pepper. “Basically just gave me my life back.”

“How so?” Pepper reaches behind her to grab onto Tony’s wrist with a surprising amount of force, eliciting a _yelp_ from him. She’s hardly about to let him flee to safety now.

“A ghost program is one of those urban legends.” Skye’s gaze flicks with amusement to Bucky, then Natasha. “One of those things everybody wanted and was rumored about in the Intelligence world, but never actually existed. It enables its users to effectively disappear.”

Natasha inclines her head at Tony. “Clarify.”

He makes a few restless gestures. “I basically wrote a _beast_ of an ever changing algorithm that will _instantly_ erase any technological footprint that Skye ever makes.”

“That’s where you’ve been all these nights.” Pepper concludes, loosening her grip and turning around to kiss him soundly. When she draws back, Tony is too thoroughly dazed to verbally respond, instead preferring to drop his head on her shoulder. She runs her fingers through his hair gently. “You are going to be _such_ a great father,” Pepper whispers, slowly tugging him from the room.

Skye actually blushes at the open affection between the two as they exit, and fans herself slightly. “Phew. _Hormones_ , am I right?”

Bucky casts his gaze heavenward, muttering curses under his breath.

Natasha helps herself to the leftover raspberries at the table and pours a fresh cup of coffee. “Finish your breakfast,” she orders, raising her chin for Skye to sit back down.

“Ugh, _parents_.” Skye drops into the seat with a scowl, lifting her feet up automatically as Bucky pushes the chair in.

“Don’t skip those wheaties, either,” he says, pushing the bowl her way.

 _How is this my lif_ e?

Natasha verifies a few things on her phone and nods smartly. “It’s settled, then. We’ll send the program for a test run tomorrow.”

“ _Tomorgaw_?” Skye questions around a mouthful of food.

Bucky rolls his eyes, nudging a glass of juice into her outstretched hand.

She gratefully accepts, swallowing and wiping her mouth clear. “Why tomorrow?”

“Because tomorrow,” Natasha promises with a delighted smile, “You’re going to visit Rose Ward.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \+ TONY STARK AS I LIVE AND BREATHE. 
> 
> \+ nikki gets credit for the emotional scene in the workshop and the "cosplay" moment; sam gets credit for the "crimson death" nickname. 
> 
> \+ c'mon kids you had to know rose was coming up next!
> 
> \+ no meta for this one because i am WIPED but feel free to leave thoughts/comments below and we can all have a giant meta comment thread party!


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ROSE.

There is intense debate about how and when Skye should meet Rose.

Tony wants to put on the Iron Man suit and fly her out there directly, acting as insurance should anything go wrong.

Bucky mumbles something under his breath in another language that has Natasha smirking even as she calmly explains why the idea isn’t perhaps the best if they want to keep a low profile.

The compromise is that Skye will take a StarkIndustries jet with Pepper en route to Malibu. She will be accompanied by Natasha, where they will disembark in Missouri -- ostensibly under the guise of needing to refuel -- and take a car another two hours’ west to the small town where Rose Ward is presumed to be living.

(Whenever Skye presses Natasha on just how she found out where Rose was holed up, the other woman just smiles and changes the subject. There is trickling unease that creeps down Skye’s neck as she pieces together what facts she can and doesn’t like the answer she’s left with.)

Still, she sits on the bed and watches as Nat packs them both overnight bags and tries to rally by loading her favorite books on her StarkPad -- which ultimately winds up sitting unused at the bottom of her bag as she stares out the window and thinks of all the ways this could go wrong.

*

_“Tell me about them.”  
_

_Ward pauses from reading his mission debrief, pinning her with an absent frown. “What is it that you want to know?”  
_

_“Whatever you think I should know.” Skye reaches for the laptop, intent on clearing all work from his mind for this discussion. “I’m curious. Despite being at the orphanage forever, I never really had siblings.” She tries to hide the tiny arrows of hurt burrowing through her with a careless shrug. “What’s it like not being an only child?”  
_

_Because he is Ward, he sees through her casual gesture completely. He drags her into his arms and holds her close for a long time, not saying anything.  
_

_But because he knows her that well, he also doesn’t call her out on it -- perhaps understanding how rare it is for her to have laid bare such a request at the cost of exposing her own loneliness and aching need to belong.  
_

_With gentle fingers running through her hair, he tells her what he can.  
_

_“Thomas and Rose are opposites. He’s not one to start a fight if there’s amusement to be had instead. Rose would argue til her dying breath if she thought she had even a fraction of a chance at winning.”  
_

_Two drastically differing siblings has Skye rearing at him in surprise. “I wonder who she gets that from?”  
_

_“No idea.” Ward absently kisses her temple. “Before I left,” -- and they both know he is talking about that terrible fire and the stint in juvie before John Garrett came along and swept him into a web of deception -- “She used to follow me around all the time. She was like my shadow. I couldn’t sneak out without looking over my shoulder half a dozen times to make sure she wasn’t behind me.”  
_

_“Were you causing trouble in the neighborhood?” Skye can’t entirely clamp down on the laughter that wants to bubble up at the thought of a young Grant Ward sneaking out to do god knows what with a little sister trailing behind him.  
_

_He ignores her, tugging once on her hair in warning. “And if Rose was there, Thomas wouldn’t be too far behind. He always wanted to make sure she was safe, even though we both knew I would have died before doing anything to put her in danger.”  
_

_“The ragtag group of Ward family misfits,” she muses quietly, her mind painting the picture. “No wonder you were so damn protective of Fitzsimmons.”  
_

_And maybe it’s because his guard is down since they’ve been talking about his family; maybe it’s because she’s been drawing circles aimlessly on whatever bare patches of skin she can find; maybe it’s the fact that they’ve been trading truths like diplomats trade concessions in an attempt to find a mutually beneficial arrangement.  
_

_Maybe it’s all of these things.  
_

_Ward doesn’t stiffen in defense at her all too astute statement, nor does he try to refute it. “Probably,” he concedes, after a drawn out pause where Skye had nearly held her breath in the hope that she hadn’t gone too far.  
_

_Their partnership is still new and even though they’ve seen each other at some pretty low points, she doesn’t really yet know how far he will allow himself to be pushed.  
_

_“All I’m saying is that I didn’t necessarily want my two kid siblings tagging along when I went out to meet Caroline Vanderbuilt behind the abandoned athletics warehouse.”  
_

_Skye tips her head back, laughing so hard she loses her breath. “Oh my god,” she gasps, “Your teenage game was being cramped by your kid sister and her equally overprotective brother.”  
_

_“I had_ tons _of game,” Ward laughingly protests, tightening his grip on her until she can’t move without the kind of effort they both know she won’t bother expending in this moment. “They were both nosy as hell.”  
_

_“I wonder,” Skye leans back so that she can kiss him, emboldened by the warmth that this nostalgia stirs up inside her, “Where they got that from?”_

_Ward must decide that he’s done with this conversation entirely because the next thing she knows, he’s rolled over and pinned her beneath him. “I don’t want to talk about my siblings anymore,” he loftily informs her. “I can think of a far better use of our time.”  
_

_“By all means,” Skye waves her free hand rather grandly. “Don’t let our trip down memory lane cramp your style.”  
_

_She makes it about two seconds before succumbing to laughter, not even bothering to hide it. Ward drops his forehead on her collarbone in defeat, then rolls off of her with a sigh.  
_

_“Not even_ **here** _and they’re still messing with me,” he grumbles, reaching again for the paperwork he’d been engrossed in earlier._

*

Skye wakes up with a start.

Natasha gives her a questioning look from where she is giving instructions to the pilot, clearly ready to break away if Skye needs her.

Skye waves her off with a hand that isn’t entirely steady and realises that they’ve landed.

“Hell of a time to go down memory lane with your Dad, Peanut,” she places a wide palm over her stomach, smiling wistfully when the baby presses whatever limb is closest to the surface in response.

That particular night had been in the early months of their being together, though Ward hadn’t held back telling her more about his family at time went on.

Thanks to him, Skye knows that Rose is whip smart and headstrong; the potentially lethal combination that nearly drove him over the edge in the years that had passed as she’d grown up.

After setting Rose up with a new identity and being mindful to relocate her every couple of years, Ward found discreet ways to stay in touch with her, always carefully limiting their interaction for her safety, lest he risk her exposure by any of his enemies. Not even John Garrett had known where to find her, and for that, Skye finds herself immensely grateful.

Ward hadn’t taken any chances with regards to his sister’s life, and Skye can’t imagine what that kind of constantly uprooted existence must have done to the young woman’s mental and emotional state.

 _Then again, isn’t that what I’ve been doing for months_?

The uneasy question prowls through her mind restlessly, causing waves of tumult and doubt to wash through her until she gradually becomes aware of Natasha crouched at her feet.

“We should go,” Nat’s gaze is piercing but Skye doesn’t bother trying to hide her emotions. It’d be useless. Natasha is practically a mind reader, and she doesn’t care if her feelings about this are broadcast to the other woman.

“Right.” Skye shakes off the hazy memory from before and tries to get her head in the game. “Let’s do this.”

*

Natasha coaches her on the drive there.

“You’ll want to focus on the facts.” She instructs, taking a left down another winding dirt road. “Rose is not as easily distracted as Thomas. From what I’ve gathered, she’ll be prepared and have a panic system in place if something doesn’t feel right. If you set her off, you could very well bring Ward down on your head within hours.”

“ _Trying_ to avoid that,” Skye mutters, rubbing her hand over her stomach and willing the continued flutters to calm down.

“She’s a civilian, but don’t expect her to be completely inept with regards to self defense. He’ll have taught her enough to take care of herself, and there are probably at least two guns in the house.”

“Why do I feel like I’m about to walk into an ambush?”

“Just keep your wits about you and this will be fine.”

They come to a stop a few miles out. Natasha can’t go the rest of the way with her. It would hardly do for the Black Widow to show up on the doorstep of a young woman she’s not even supposed to know exists.

For the first time in weeks, Skye will be parted from the woman she feels closest to. She’ll have to rely on her own wits and strength to get through this. The protective bubble that she’s been living in is about to just --

“-- _Skye_.” Natasha's gripping her hands tight enough to bruise.

With a shake, Skye comes back to herself. “I’m good, I swear.”

Natasha lifts a gentle hand to Skye’s cheek. “It’s just his little sister.”

Skye lets out a humorless chuckle as she crosses in front of the car to slide behind the driver’s seat. She starts the car, lowering the window to meet Natasha’s watchful gaze head on. “What do you think I’m so afraid of?”

*

The door opens and she’s greeted by a mahogany haired brunette with piercing blue eyes. “Oh!” The eyes drop to her stomach. “ _Wow_. Um, the clinic is up the road a ways. A lot of people make the mistake of stopping here first.”

She gestures for Skye to follow her inside, pointing to the nearest armchair. “Just have a seat, don’t worry, I’ll call them and tell that you’re on your way and --”

The babbling is nothing like Skye expected but the cheekbones are _exactly_ the same and the eyes are _Thomas’s eyes_ and she’s overwhelmed by how hard and fast the _rush_ of affection comes for this previously-unknown young woman.

All her carefully laid plans and neat instructions go flying out the window.

“-- _Rose_.” 

In an instant, Rose stops talking and goes very still. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” She recites in a somewhat monotonous tone, eyes distant and cooling rapidly.

And Skye wants to laugh, because, _god,_ He _couldn’t have prepared her better than this?_

Skye remains utterly still, waiting to see if Rose will continue to deny who she really is or if there is about to be a showdown. “When you were eight years old, you cut your shoulder after sneaking out of the house and you still have the scar to prove it. You hate tomatoes. Your favorite character in the Sandlot is Squints, because he reminds you of --”

The tension in the air just about _snaps_ as Rose lunges to the closest drawer, pulling out a rather dangerous looking gun and Skye has no choice but to lift her hand and bat it away with a quick burst of energy.

At the sight of her most lethal defense literally flown out the window, Rose squares her shoulders and glares. “Nice trick, _Darth Vader_. Are you even _pregnant_ or is that part of this whole charade, because --”

The baby chooses that moment to _kick hard_ and Skye momentarily loses her concentration, grunting in pain.

Rose automatically moves forward as if to help before realising the situation. She then rolls her eyes, planting her hands on her hips. “This is one hell of a game if you’re trying to get to me.”

Skye remains still, sending her focus inward and willing the baby to calm down. “I _am_ really pregnant.” She puts her hands up defensively and lowers slowly into the chair at her back. “It’s your brother’s.”

At the news, Rose drops her head back and sighs loudly. “ _Dammit_ , Thomas.”

Despite the irony of the whole situation, Skye has to laugh around another grimace of pain as she hastily corrects, “Your _other_ brother.”

Rose’s eyes grow huge and Skye is treated to the unique experience of watching the razor-sharp _Ward_ intelligence at work as she puts the pieces together quickly. “Oh my god. You’re _Skye_.”

“Okay, literally _no one_ in your family can keep a secret.” The baby kicks twice as if in agreement and finally, _finally_ , settles down.

Rose closes the door and draws the curtains before coming to kneel at Skye’s side. “How do you feel? How far along are you? The baby’s kicking, so it’s obviously quite active -- do you know yet, boy or girl? Does _Grant_ \--”

Skye puts a hand out to forestall additional questions. “He doesn’t know.” 

Rose shakes her head, impatiently muttering to herself, “Of _course_ he doesn’t know, he’d be glued to your damn side if he did.”

While Skye absorbs _that_ absently delivered bomb, she focuses on willing her heartrate to settle down.

The younger woman is quiet for a few moments before bursting into laughter. She brushes off Skye’s semi-alarmed look of concern, snickering to herself. “It’s just kind of incredible.” Rose pinches the bridge of her nose momentarily (and the familiar gesture has Skye’s stomach _swooping_ low and hard in a way that has nothing to do with the baby). “My _oh so perfect_ and _ever responsible_ big brother Grant knocked up the love of his life.”

The wording doesn’t exactly quell the flock of butterflies in her stomach and Skye grimaces. “I don’t know if I would use that particular term in reference to me, because --”

“-- All these years after badgering me and Thomas, having hellishly awkward conversations about using protection and _being safe_ and not letting people get close enough to form long relationships that can be _used against you_ \--” Rose gestures widely at Skye in open disbelief, “And here you are.”

What can she really say to refute that?

Skye flounders for something, _anything_ to keep from going down the truly murky path that is her relationship with Grant Douglas Ward. “Awkward conversations about sex ed?”

A bright peal of laughter comes rippling out of the younger woman. “Have you ever seen him when he has to talk about his feelings?”

The scene that comes to her mind is probably not the kind that Rose is suggesting.

 

( _“_ _If you think I’m letting you leave me,” he fits a hand behind her neck, dragging her mouth to his in a searing, open mouthed kiss. “You’re sadly mistaken. There’s nowhere on earth you could go that I wouldn’t find you.”_ )

 

Skye colors briefly and swallows audibly to regain her composure. “I have.”

“Imagine that, only the awkwardness level dialed up to _eleventeen_.”

The imagery does the trick of shifting her mind to happier times and she has to chuckle. “He’s not as smooth as he’d like to think he is.”

Rose snickers in agreement, placing a cup of tea at her companion’s elbow, then smirks as she takes in the full state of Skye’s appearance with a more practiced eye. “I guess he had _some_ moves if he managed this.” Skye can’t even summon outrage at the statement when they both know Rose is correct.

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “He’s not a total failure in that department.”

“Let’s not discuss my brother’s bedside prowess --”

Skye spews tea everywhere.

“-- and move onto more important matters.”

“That would be great,” she weakly offers, setting the teacup back down with faintly trembling fingers.

 _Why do all the siblings in the Ward family have the ability to throw her completely off balance in a matter of seconds_? _How is this a singular skill that they some how_ all _possess?_

Rose grabs a notebook and pen from a nearby table, settling into the cozy armchair across from her. “How far along are you?”

“Just shy of five months.”

She frowns. “You’re really tiny for five months. Are you certain about that date?” Skye cannot will the dark blush away fast enough. “ _Okayyyyy_ then. Say no more.”

There’s an awkward pause while Rose busies herself with jotting down some notes in the margins and Skye stares at her hands blankly.

“My first trimester was really tough,” she finally settles on by way of reply.

“But you’re taking all your vitamins and going to your checkups, right?”

“... _Mostly_.” Skye winces, thinking of the last time she’d had a real well visit  other than the initial reading at Afterlife and heavy monitoring by JARVIS.

Between her own ability to sense the baby’s heartbeat and the sensors in Bucky’s hand to act as a backup -- not to mention Natasha’s near-dictatorial guidance as she poured over various books and online resources -- there hadn’t been anyone she felt safe enough with to trust. Up until yesterday, the ghost program Tony built hadn’t been running and there wasn’t much else she had done to track her pregnancy. 

To her credit, Rose doesn’t react other than a brief raising of her eyebrows. Ward pragmatism intact, she comes to a decision. “Well, we need to get you looked at.” She firmly decides, standing up and consulting her laptop. “I can squeeze you in at the clinic in another twenty minutes if we hurry.”

Skye takes note of the open textbooks on the kitchen table and the various tools scattered through the room leading down the hallway. “Don’t you have the equipment here?”

She pauses. “I’m... an _apprentice_ , Skye. The clinic allows me to take home a mini kit to practice on but it won’t be comprehensive and I certainly don’t have the training to detect all the things you need to know and --”

“-- I’m growing a baby and she’s pretty active. I just need you to check on her. Besides, how else are you going to learn if you don’t practice?”

Rose holds the silence for an extended beat. She lifts her eyebrow. “You want me to _practice_ on my unborn niece?”

Skye gives her an innocent look. “Got any better ideas?”

*

There’s a spare bedroom where they move most of Rose’s equipment.

Skye doesn’t understand all of the jargon rolling across the screens, but she’s not a _total_ technological failure and between her ability to plug things in and sync them together -- and Rose’s already stunning knowledge -- they have the ultrasound ready to go in no time at all. 

Rose is correct in saying referring to her setup as a mini kit -- it’s basically bare bones compared to what Skye had seen Lincoln operating at Afterline -- the controls at her disposal could fit on a small notebook and Skye has to personally get in and rewire a few things to marry her StarkTablet to keep the display on a secure network rather than risk the results being uploaded to the clinic somehow.

Rose has indicates for her to lie back on the bed, squirting the gel onto Skye’s belly with a brief warning, “This’ll probably be a bit cold at first.”

The hummingbird heartbeat that Skye has heard for so long inside her head becomes amplified as it echos inside the room. Skye can’t take her eyes off the tablet, willing the baby to come into focus on the screen, until suddenly --

“And there she is,” Rose says, clearly awed. “ _Wow_.”

Clear as day, there’s an obvious little one just hanging out and giving them one hell of a show. 

Skye offers up a laugh that’s choked by tears.

Visual proof that the Peanut actually exists. That she hasn’t been doing this all for some imagined alien sprog ( _thanks, Thomas_ ) growing under her skin.

It’s real. This is _finally_ real.

Skye takes Rose’s free hand and positions it to where she last felt the baby kicking.

“Whoa.” Her eyes are glittering with unshed tears as she meets Skye’s. “Guess someone’s eager to say hello.”

Skye nods tiredly, closing her eyes for a few seconds. “Now you know what I’ve been dealing with since you answered the door.”

They watch the screen as it pixelates while the baby moves around every so often.

“Should we be doing something else?” Skye finally asks, even though she’d be content to watch this for the next several hours.

“Nah,” Rose puts her chin in her hand, taking it all in. “Let’s just have this for a while.”

“Okay,” She agrees, eyes fluttering closed again. “I’m good with that.”

And just like that, her protective bubble of people she trusts expands to include one more valuable person.

*

Skye wakes up from her impromptu nap to find Rose poring over medical texts. “Hey.”

At her voice, the younger woman jumps, clearly startled. “Oh my god, I lost track of time. I was only going to cover half a chapter, I _swear_ \--”

“-- Rose, it’s fine.” Skye rubs at her eyes blearily, pushing herself up on the bed. “What time is it?”

“A little after three.”

Skye nods, reaching for her phone so that she can connect with Natasha and arrange for a pickup in a bit.

While she is doing that, Rose sighs heavily, giving Skye a more thorough once over. “Listen. The closer we get, the more frequent your checkups need to be.”

Skye winces. “I know.”

“And you flying here and showing up isn’t going to be as under the radar as you think, I don’t care whose resources you have.”

Despite the fact that they probably _could_ find a way to make it work, especially with all of Tony and Natasha’s resources behind her, Skye can’t help the lopsided smile that forms at Rose’s practical summation of their problem.

 _Seems she’s like her big brother in more ways than one_.

“You let me worry about that,” Skye finally answers, working hard not to smile wider at the look of consternation on the younger woman’s face as she dislikes being kept out of the loop. “I have an idea.”

“Short of opening up your own clinic _just_ for this little one, I seriously doubt we can hide this from the world.”

“Rose.” Skye gets to her feet, and gives her a firm look, indicating that the matter is under control and no longer up for discussion. “I have to get back to New York before your _other_ brother loses his mind.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “Drama King.”

It shouldn’t be as comforting as it is to know Rose has both her older brothers pegged so well, but Skye secretly loves having another female in her corner and it certainly doesn’t hurt that it evens the tide in their (however unacknowledged) family of four.

Unfortunately there’s still one giant elephant in the room that needs to be addressed before she can leave.

“ _Speaking_ of dramatic family members...” Skye shifts her weight, distantly aware that she’s fidgeting but not sure how to phrase the next order of business in a somewhat tactful manner.

“Skye.” Rose quirks an eyebrow in amusement at her visible hedging. “I’ve aimed a gun at you _and_ seen your unborn fetus. I think we’re well past pleasantries by now.”

“Wouldn’t be the _first_ time someone in your family aimed a gun at me,” Skye mutters, wishing for the thousandth time that her brain wasn’t lagging behind with all the pregnancy hormones cluttering up valuable computing power.

“While I’m sure there’s a story to be told _there_ ,” Rose folds her arms, looking casually alert and so much like both of her older brothers it is _staggering_ , “Why don’t you just spit out whatever it is that you’re trying to say.”

There is really no way to frame it nicely.

“They can’t know that you know.” She finally blurts out.

Both of Rose’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want me to keep this a secret from my superspy secret agent older brother and my best friend?”

Hearing Rose refer to Ward as a _superspy secret agent_ and Thomas as her best friend, sharply tightens the vice around Skye’s heart. (And not just because it sounds eerily like something she’d personally said a million years ago.)

While Rose isn’t the first person Skye has had to impress the need for confidentiality about the baby -- she definitely holds the distinction as the only one who will need to keep the truth from two of the people closest to her.

It’s the kind of silence that only divides people -- _will_ divide this family even more than it has already been rendered into pieces -- and has Skye belatedly wondering if she’d made the right call roping the youngest Ward sibling into this, after all.

Rose is the one to break the pointed silence. “Look, I’m not an idiot. Something obviously happened because we both know there’s no way Grant would let you out of his _sight_ if he knew you were pregnant with his daughter.”

Having Rose refer to the baby as Ward’s daughter throws her already unstable feelings into a _tailspin_ , but -- not unlike her oldest brother -- she’s slicing through all of Skye’s carefully constructed emotional barriers with little more than a few words, and she’s not finished yet:

“I’m lost on the Thomas end of things. He clearly already knows. What’s the big deal?”

Skye sifts through what she’s deduced about Thomas’s unwitting reveal of his baby sister’s location and what she can tell Rose without sounding like a completely paranoid freakshow. Finally she just decides to go for broke. “You're right. He does know. But Thomas didn’t tell me where to find you.”

She frowns at both the non sequitur and the statement itself. “That’s ridiculous. You’re _here_. There’s no other way you would have known.”

“Your older brother has... a set of extremely overprotective assassins who have been helping me make some decisions about what to do with the baby. Let’s just say they _persuaded_ Thomas to offer up the info without really understanding he was doing it in the first place.”

“Jesus, Grant.” Rose wipes a hand down her face in near shock. The moment stretches out uncomfortably as she turns her back on Skye to try and regain some composure.

Unwilling to face her with this new information laid at her feet, Rose finally continues, “I don’t know if I should be more upset about my _older_ brother’s questionable taste in allies or the fact that they used whatever means necessary to get my _younger_ brother to reveal information he’d rather be killed than tell.”

“They’re _spies_ , Rose. He would have done the same thing.” 

Though Skye does everything she can to soften the words, the lack of hesitation at her answer holds enough weight that she knows Rose won’t argue it any further.

“Thomas will literally _die_ if he ever finds out about this.”

Skye nods fractionally. “I know.”

“Like, he’ll actually spiral so hard and fast, you won’t be able to stop it. You haven’t seen him at his lowest.”

Despite the truly epic meltdown when they’d first met, Skye has no doubt that Rose is telling the truth. While she can’t exactly picture it, she has enough history with the darkness that runs through the Ward family that it's hardly a stretch to imagine what Thomas might be capable of.

Skye remembers Ward at rock bottom; of that godforsaken vault where Coulson had locked up him like an animal, ashamed of how willing she was to think the worst of him; of what he’d gone through at Garrett’s hands; of all the things that had sent him down the dark, destructive path he currently walked -- _alone_ \-- and cannot stop the shudder that wracks her frame.

“Believe me when I say that I have a pretty good idea what we’re dealing with.”

There is a look of weighed understanding shared between the two women before Rose nods slowly. 

Skye feels like she’s drowning beneath the weight of the complex dynamics of this family and her own emotional warfare. She can’t ignore it anymore than she can keep from breathing. There were reasons why she and Ward had been drawn to each other so fiercely -- and he is certainly not the only one with complicated family drama.

In a perfect world, Thomas and Rose would swap stories of Ward being hideously overprotective while he babyproofed the house and Skye would be laughing at Fitzsimmons when they delivered a new gadget designed to make her life easier once the baby was born and --

\-- this is not a perfect world.

This is Defcon Five; this is all of hers and Ward’s terrible mistakes clumped together into one giant, swirling black hole of chaos and disaster; this is her worst nightmare coated around the things that Hell is made of. _  
_

_No_ , this is _not_ a perfect world. Not even close.

The baby moves restlessly and Skye draws in a deep breath, sending as much warmth and love inside. She feels an answering flutter of acknowledgement before the baby settles down, hopefully content to fall back asleep rather than be present for whatever remaining emotional landmines lie ahead.

Mustering up whatever dregs of focus and objectivity she can find, Skye finally answers, “I’m not saying you can’t tell Thomas _ever_. Just not right now.” 

“Wow.” Rose laughs, and it lacks all the warmth from their earlier interaction this afternoon. “You’re really playing this one close to the vest, aren’t you?”

“Rose...”

“I mean, at the very least, I think I deserve to know what Grant’s gotten himself mixed up in if it has you running _scared_ instead of running at his side while you deal with it together.”

And it shouldn’t be this simultaneous wave of _relief_ and sadness at the thought of telling Rose what her life has become; but Skye is just so tired of carrying it these days -- and telling the only other woman who loves the man she does -- as _much_ as she does (albeit in a different way) is so appealing, it nearly floors her.

“Ward would kill me if I ever got you mixed up into this.” She mutters, trying to talk herself out of it, even as she drafts a message to Nat that she is going to need more time before they meet up.

“Let _me_ worry about that.” Rose firmly decides, echoing her earlier words as she reaches to grip Skye’s hand tight. “What’s going on, Skye?”

And without any regard for secrecy, or the fact that she might be making an epic mistake by banking on the younger woman’s loyalty being with _her_ and not the family she’s known all her life --

“What do you know about Hydra?”

*

Skye runs out of words nearly twenty minutes later.

Obviously she hadn’t told her everything -- and was careful to skirt around the kind of details that could be used as leverage against them all -- but there Skye can confidently state that Rose will no longer have any doubt as to why her silence is so imperative.

Rose stares off into the distance.

“So.” Skye eases off the couch, wincing at the blank look on the younger woman’s face. “That was probably way more than you needed to know but I’m going to need to pee before my bladder explodes.”

Rose nods, unblinking as she waves Skye off in the direction of the bathroom.

By the time Skye returns, Rose still looks shell-shocked, but she’s definitely starting to rally, if the clearness in her eyes is anything to go by.

“You’re giving _everything_ up for her,” Rose concludes slowly as Skye sits back down. “And you don’t even know that he’ll ever be free of Hydra, or that you won’t constantly be looking over your shoulder for your mutual enemies.”

The bleak summation of what her life has become has Skye’s vision stinging with unshed tears. “Yes.”

Rose lets her tears fall unchecked as she reaches for Skye’s hand again, this time gripping so hard that it is a wonder their bones don’t shatter. “The Universe knew _exactly_ what it was doing when my brother fell for you.” Despite wanting to strongly protest the Universe’s theoretical involvement in their lives, Skye loses the fight not to cry due to the conviction in the younger woman’s voice. Rose then throws strong arms around her, telling her fiercely, “And you are, without a doubt, the strongest woman on the planet.”

“I don’t know about that...” She shakily replies, dashing the tears from her cheeks.

“I do.” Rose holds strong on this point, stubbornly determined to get Skye to read the unwavering support and trust in her eyes. “And while this little girl may not have the most conventional of families, we both know she’s going to grow up being so damn loved that she’ll never doubt it.”

Maybe it’s because her guard is so far down it should be a joke -- or maybe it is simply because she already loves Rose _so much_ that she can mostly ignore the dagger that slicing into her heart when she tells the younger woman:

“Now I know why you’re his favorite.” Skye gives Rose a  tight hug. “And god, am I ever glad you’re in my corner.”

Rose offers a watery laugh as they both get to their feet. “My idiot brothers always did underestimate me.”

A quick chirp alerts a text from Natasha that she’s waiting around the corner, and though Skye is exhausted from the (mostly cathartic) experience of meeting Rose and telling her what she could of her past with Ward, there is a part of her that is desperately sad to be leaving.

There is no parting greeting that can adequately cover all the emotions currently swirling through her at the moment, so Skye settles by saying, “I’m really glad you were the first one to meet her.”

“ _Dammit_ , Skye.” Rose is careful not to crush Skye’s belly between them as she pulls her in for one last hug. “As if we haven’t cried enough today.”

Despite the familiar oath sends chills racing down her spine, Skye offers a lingering squeeze. “I’ll have more answers for you soon.”

“What can I do in the meantime?” Rose is asking, in essence, how she can support her while physically being the farthest removed from the action beyond nagging her for checkups and the like.

The baby kicks out as if in answer to the open plea in her aunt’s voice. Skye puts an absent hand over her stomach, her smile widening to _hold_ for the first time in what feels like an eternity. “Look after yourself. We’ll be back.”

*

When Skye arrives back at the Tower, Thomas is waiting for her at the apartment.

He’s clearly impatient with her delayed arrival and his hair looks thoroughly mussed, like he ran his hands through it a couple dozen times.

She tries not to think about the way the exasperation throws his clenched jaw and frustration into sharp relief and how much it reminds her of his older brother.

“Look, I know you don’t really owe me anything, but if you’re going to take a trip _out of town_ with my unborn niece in tow, a _heads up_ would be much appreciated.”

She’s exhausted. Cross country travel -- private jet or not -- is tiring, she’s only eaten twice in the past few hours, and there’s a whole lot of emotion she stubbornly refuses to admit to right now nipping at her heels.

Thomas frowns, peering at her critically. “When was the last time you _slept_?”

Skye feels the baby stirring idly ( _probably wondering who the loud mouthed intruder is_ ) and makes a split second decision. “Thomas?”

“Yeah?” He’s starting to stare at her in concern. Some of what she’s feeling must bleed through on her face, because he backpedals in earnest. “Look, if this is about me being ticked that you took off without warning, I mean, whatever man, it’s totally fine and --”

Without warning, Skye grabs his hand and plants it firmly on her stomach. Thomas goes wide-eyed, totally still.

“Just...” Skye closes her eyes, sending a little micro-flutter to her daughter.

_C’mon, Peanut. Say hi to your Uncle for me._

In response she gets a double kick under his hand, and Skye opens her eyes in time to see wonder dawning across Thomas’s face like the sun rising in east to greet her.

“Is that...”

She doesn’t even try to hide the tears gathering in her own eyes. “Yeah.”

With a loud _whoop_ , Thomas sweeps her into his arms and spins them around in mad circles. “Oh my _GOD_ this is AMAZING I’m going to be an UNCLE this is a miracle --” he narrowly avoids falling over the coffee table, and Skye has to help _push_ it out of the way before they both go down. “-- I’m gonna spoil the _crap_ out of this little peanut and teach her everything I know and --”

That thought alone is terrifying enough to have the nausea coming back with a quickness.

“-- Put me down.” Skye orders, gripping his shoulder tighter than she’d normally dare.

He yelps in pain and immediately surrenders her to the counter.

They both take a moment and put their hands down flat to try and keep the room from spinning. When Thomas steps closer, bracketing her within the safety of his arms, Skye does her very best not to think about the last time someone with his shared DNA did the same thing (and mostly succeeds).

“If I hurl, I’m definitely aiming for you.” Skye warns, leaning forward and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Thomas says, gingerly rubbing her back. “I deserve that.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes as they breathe within this shared personal space where they haven’t been have before.

Thomas lifts his hand from where it’s close enough to tangle with hers and hovers it cautiously over her stomach. “Can I...?”

“Yeah.”

And Skye definitely _does not_ think about the man she loves with darker features and how he’d be equal parts overjoyed and terrified right about now when she guides Thomas over to where her daughter is still kicking away.

(She _doesn’t._ )

* 

For the rest of that week, she _glows_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \+ if you wanna know about who i’ve fancast for rose and read meta (recommended) please [read the meta](http://b-isforbombshell.tumblr.com/post/174606981050/skye-prequel-meta-rose-ward-fancast)!


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